


4th Batch

by Cyberrat



Series: Fic Batches [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Breathplay, Daddy Kink, Dehumanization, Dirty Talk, Feminization, Hair-pulling, M/M, Rape Play, Spitroasting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 18:35:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17667923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberrat/pseuds/Cyberrat
Summary: 4th Batch of my fics





	1. Hanzo

**Author's Note:**

> Young Hanzo at a gloryhole. Breathplay

Someone stumbles in and crashes into the wall before he starts fumbling with his belt. Hanzo can smell the alcohol he spilled sloppily over his jeans, and gets desperately hot at knowing the man on the other side of the wall is drunk.

Drunk guys are always more uninhibited and eager to debase him. The thought makes him squirm, chest feeling like a warm little balloon is expanding inside him.

Two thick fingers appear in the whole and grope around clumsily.

“Where’s the cunt,” the man grunts and Hanzo leans forward, his hot breath warning enough. The man grunts again and suddenly his fingers are hooked into the side of Hanzo’s mouth, pulling him roughly closer. He makes a sound of surprise but goes along, his shaking fingers curling into fists on top of his thighs. He sits seiza. It gives him a special kind of satisfaction.

“There y’are,” the man – his customer – mumbles. He does not seem too concerned with getting his cock out. The wall separating them vibrates gently as the man leans heavily against it, his fingers sliding along Hanzo’s tongue languid and slow. They taste acrid.

He pulls out, wet fingertips sliding along Hanzo’s lips, then fingering the little silky patch of his goatee.

“Feels nice,” he comments idly, then lets his fingers slide back into Hanzo’s mouth who keeps it obediently open; even sidles closer to give him better access. He gags soft and wet when the man suddenly starts fucking deeper inside, trying to shove his fingers down his throat and only managing to make Hanzo drool liberally.

“Yeah,” he grunts, “Very nice. You’re a seasoned whore at this, hm? Fucking slut. C’mere.”

Hanzo’s eyes are glassy as he waits obediently, mouth open, drooling, tongue out and welcoming as the fingers retreat and the hole gets filled with something new; long and fat and much better prepared to try how sensitive his gag reflex is.

He wishes there was a way for the men on the other side to grab for his hair. He’d love to have them grunt fuck his skull, hands harsh in his hair, holding him so he can’t get away.

He knows he would love it; getting held harshly, his nose buried in unwashed pubes, suffocating as his throat bulges on just about anybody’s dick. Nothing but a cocksleeve.

Hanzo gags on the man’s cock as it bumps the back of his throat. He supposes he should learn how to take them without choking, but most of them like it that way. Like hearing his throat close up with a click and his wet struggle for air.

The man on the other side murmurs something low and slurred and for a second he stills before he awkwardly fumbles a couple fingers through the hole again, clamping them around Hanzo’s nose and cutting off his air.

Hanzo almost jerks away, heart thumping that much faster. There’s a sweet panic overtaking him as the man keeps his nose pinched and forces his cock deep. Hanzo helps thoughtlessly, bringing his face as close as possible to the hole, his eyes rolling into his head as his cock pulses out helpless, pathetic ropes of cum into his underwear just out of sheer excitement over the treatment.

He can hear the man on the other side vaguely spitting insults at him; calling him a cheap two dollar whore; a cum-bucket; a good for nothing cunt – and Hanzo feels hot and full and high on it.

He gasps for air when the cock suddenly pulls back, fingers leaving his nose, and his eyes are swimming with tears of desperation because he wants it back. He can see the fist through the hole, jerking that nice, fat dick that had used him like a toy just a few seconds prior.

“Open up, baby,” the man on the other side croons and Hanzo does so without second thought; lets him jerk off on his tongue while he is sniffly and weepy because he wants to be choked some more.

When the man leaves, he almost goes after him. He wants to crawl on his knees and lick his shoes if that is what it takes to get him to choke him some more while he fills him up to bursting with dick.

He gets the feeling gloryholes will not be enough for him for much longer.

He needs more.


	2. McHanzo + Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McHanzo + Soldier76 – housewife!Hanzo; rape play; breath play; name calling; dirty talk; dehumanization; forced feminization; hair pulling/rough – Jesse brings the Commander over without first talking to Hanzo about it. The Commander is very good at playing his part.

“Babydoll,” Jesse calls out, throwing a quick glance behind him to make sure Jack is closing the door quietly, not making a sound. “Daddy’s home.”

There’s a moment of stillness, then the soft sound of dishes clicking on the counter as they are set down.

“Yes,” comes the reply. It is simple. Reserved. There’s the soft tap of Hanzo’s prosthetic feet on the naked floor and then he is standing in the doorway, an apron secured around his waist. It does not look too special; casual. A simple shield for the sudsy, dirty water – but it is also white and frilly around the edges and seems decidedly out of place on the otherwise austere man wearing it.

Hanzo’s face is unreadable as he stares at them for a bit too long, dark eyes twitching between them. He seems impassive until his fingers start curling around the very edge of the apron. He looks self-conscious.

“Commander,” he says carefully and slowly, gaze lingering on Jesse, his high cheekbones flushing more and more.

Jack does not say anything. He stares back with a blank expression, waiting – and Jesse jumps in smoothly, making his way deeper into the living quarters that are decidedly too small for three big men like them.

“None a’ that now, babydoll. We’re not too formal here. I brought Jack over for a nice beer. Told him about my little wife – he said he’d like to meet her.”

Hanzo is frozen to the spot, face still stony, yet there is a minimal shift in the set of his eyebrows and the twist of his mouth that makes him look… betrayed. Vulnerable. He stares at Jesse, fingers curled tightly into the hem of his apron, frozen to the spot.

He looks like a deer caught in the headlights, and there is a certain kind of fragility in the air as all three men wait how this will play out; whether Hanzo will flee or fight – or play along like a good girl.

Jesse takes a cautious step closer, head lowering a bit, staring intently at Hanzo. His voice is deep, soothing but urging at the same time.

“Jack would love his beer now, baby.”

Hanzo swallows, and the click of his dry throat is almost audible. There’s another second of mute staring and then Hanzo turns on his heel and retreats.

Jesse lets out the air he’s been holding and turns, throwing Jack a roguish grin. The Commander smirks back lopsidedly, steely eyes still lingering on the spot the archer had occupied before following the sweep of Jesse’s arm and making his way towards the small table.

He is unselfconscious about the erection tenting his pants as he moves, not trying to hide the fact that he’s already very aroused at the prospect of playing tonight. Jesse does not mention it, either – he is in much the same predicament, after all.

.o.

Jesse does not think that Hanzo did it deliberately but he does sure appreciate the delicious irony in the situation as the shaking of Hanzo’s hands caused the bottle to fall and empty itself across Jack’s lap.

He’s never played with someone Jesse just brought along – or someone they both know and work with for that matter – and it definitely shows. He is nervous and twitchy, and now he’s staring at Jack’s angry face with an open anxiousness that should not get Jesse’s cock wet at the tip but does it regardless.

Jack’s mouth is pinched into a tight line as he sets the beer bottle back onto the table. When Hanzo still just stands there, staring, he barks: “Well? Do something!”

Hanzo jerks, his face going hard for a second as his ever-present pride rears its head, but a quick glance at Jesse’s expectant gaze seems to quell the urge to sneer and talk down to them.

Instead he mumbles: “Apologies…” and turns to retreat and get a washcloth. Jack’s arm snaps out, curling hard around Hanzo’s wrist before he can go anywhere.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His bright eyes are unsettling as he stares at Hanzo without blinking. He tugs hard, making Hanzo stumble towards him.

“Jesse told me about his well-behaved little cunt of a wife, but all I’m seeing is some clumsy bimbo.” Hanzo’s cheeks start burning again, his mouth going soft and open in shock over the commander’s harsh words. Jack’s hand is still curled around the archer’s thick wrist, holding on tight, short nails digging harshly into his skin. “You didn’t even put on something pretty for us. That’s not very nice.”

His eyes flick down, and his already rough voice becomes hard to understand as it gets a bit deeper: “Least you got some nice tits. You should show them off more.”

Hanzo pulls weakly at the grip Jack has on him, his voice cracking as he veritably whispers: “Y-You are hurting me…”

Jack’s eyes flick to Jesse, but he is just sitting there relaxed, watching the scene unfold.

Emboldened, Jack turns back to Hanzo and pulls hard. Hanzo stumbles, and, even though the maneuver would not be enough to knock him down usually, lets himself now fall hard to his knees in front of Jack.

“Clean the mess you made, girlie.”

Hanzo’s eyes become glassy at the nickname, mouth so soft and red as he dazedly stares at the Commander’s beer-wet crotch in front of him. When he doesn’t move quick enough, Jack’s other hand snatches a fistful of his hair, gripping harsh enough that Hanzo cries out in distress, face twisted in pain.

The Commander does not care about it, pulling him close, dragging Hanzo’s cheek against the rough denim and hard bulge of his cock.

“I said. Clean it.”

Hanzo is panting, voice shot as he assents with a shaky: “Y-Yes, Sir…” after throwing a helpless gaze towards Jesse who remains impassive to his plea.

They watch as Hanzo sets to work, licking at the beer-wet jeans, and, after another harsh twist of Jack’s fist in his hair, opens his mouth wide above where the tip of his cock pushes against the fabric, and starts sucking.

Jack groans, thick thighs falling open more easily, rigid shoulders losing some of their tense lines.

“Ahh, fuck. That’s exactly what I needed.”

Jesse smirks. There’s a high flush on his cheeks – the open, unselfconscious vulgarity of the Commander seems to intoxicate him way more than the bit of alcohol he’s sipped at while watching the show.

“I am glad I could be of service,” he murmurs. Jack barks a laugh. He pulls Hanzo away via the grip he has on him, not looking at the archer’s face as he begins opening his pants with the other hand.

“Should get myself an obedient cunt like that,” he murmurs. “But I’m not ready to settle down yet. Women are always so goddamn picky about everything. Think you got a good catch with yours, though. You’re not picky, are you?”

His cock is out and suddenly his blue eyes snap back to Hanzo’s face, a smug grin spreading on his face when he catches Hanzo staring near mesmerized at the faintly flushed cock in front of him. Paler skin than Jesse’s, and not as thick, but still plenty interesting.

Jack slaps him with three fingers; hard enough to make a showy, loud slapping noise while Hanzo grunts more in surprise than in pain.

“I asked you something, bimbo.” And then, without missing a beat: “Yeah, you’re not picky. Doesn’t Jesse give you enough dick? You sniffing around for cocks behind his back when you’re supposed to clean the house and do the laundry?”

He does not expect Hanzo to talk, obviously. He already has him pulled forward, his grip in the dark hair unrelenting and harsh and domineering everything as he drags him onto his cock and pushes deep, listening to the wet gagging and watching the desperate, instinctual struggle before Hanzo’s training kicks in and he obediently lets himself get used.

Already, his nose is running and his eyes are suspiciously wet as Jack keeps him down just to listen to the click of his throat and the badly suppressed gagging.

Jesse is laughing next to them now, full bellied and carefree – like he’s heard the best joke in the world and isn’t idly sitting by while Hanzo struggles for air until the Commander finally lets him go to breathe.

“She’s a good girl. Don’t be so harsh, Commander. I fill ‘er up plenty. Give her li’l womb somethin’ t’ work with – but she’s greedy. Always knew that. No problem with that, to be honest.”

“Clever man,” Jack nods, staring intently in Hanzo’s dark eyes, pupils blown wide. “I think we can have a lot of fun. I can take care of you when your husband is… indisposed.” He laughs when Hanzo whines and licks sloppily at the wet tip of his cock, trying to noisily slurp it back into his mouth. “But I’ll have you know that I’ll be a lot stricter than he is. Gotta have myself a pretty little lady waiting for me when I come home. Want a nice ready cunt to pull on my dick whenever I want…”

Hanzo’s face goes slack, mouth open wide and tongue out obediently as Jack slaps his cock against it, wiping the salty pre-cum against the soft insides of his cheeks.

“Are you going to be a good girl?”

They both laugh when Hanzo tries to answer without closing his mouth, a degrading sound of raw need croaking from him as he drools, hands kept prim and proper in his lap – on top of the apron.


	3. Genyatta + McCree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genyatta + Blackwatch!McCree – Rough sex (but no rape); double teaming/spit roasting; breath play; fucking without lube

Zenyatta is agile and pliant, and while he might be able to easily slip out of either Genji’s or Jesse’s grasp, when confronted with both of the same time he definitely has to scramble to not get caught.

His expression, usually placid, looks uncharacteristically hilarious as his eyebrows are pulled up, plush mouth a constant little ‘o’ of surprise. With both of them getting at him at the same time he can’t perform his fancy little tricks of using their own weight against them to throw them to the mat – and sooner or later his luck just has to run out.

McCree’s big hand curls around his upper arm when Zenyatta’s attention is on Genji, and that’s it: he gets whirled around and slammed to the ground, Jesse’s knee digging harsh into his spine while he twists his arm up behind his back, the other hand on the side of Zenyatta’s face to mash his head into the floor of the boxring.

“Y’ lost,” he rasps, grin wild and a bit insane looking. He’s waited for this moment. They both have. Genji is close, brimming suddenly with energy after his stamina had been whittled down just as much as McCree’s.

“So… So it seems,” Zenyatta gasps, back straining, trying to alleviate the pain in his shoulder as Jesse keeps him firmly pinned.

“I believe you owe us a little somethin’ somethin’.”

“Yes… I remember. If you would just-”

“Ah ah ah… none a’ that. Not gonna let you go until the second you got one of our cocks in you. Ye’r not gonna do your little vanishing trick.”

He digs his knee in a little deeper, and Zenyatta grunts in pain, but there is a definite little grin playing on his mouth.

.o.

They wrestle him towards the edge of the training arena and change places with nervous energy; like Zenyatta could just vanish in a puff of smoke if they don’t have their hands on him at all times.

It is risky doing this here, in a public training room of Blackwatch, but they don’t think they could have stopped even if Commander Reyes himself walked in. The price is too good not to immediately have.

They probably hurt Zenyatta as they arrange him around, but he does not protest. His loose pants are tenting at the crotch, cock bouncing out and slapping against his soft, concave belly when Genji rips them down to get at the goods.

They use him like boys would use their little toys: rough and without any thought of the consequences if they broke them.

McCree has it easier than him: He does not need to worry about preparation. Zenyatta’s head is dangling off the edge of the arena and McCree’s legs are long enough to comfortably have his throat.

Genji pauses in spitting into his hand to watch as Zenyatta’s throat bulges visibly around the fat cock, lovely brown skin flushing an alarming shade of red as Jesse hunches over and ruts into him, one arm clutching at the corner pole of the ring. His eyes are wide, crazed looking, and Genji would almost be worried if he wasn’t about to raw Zenyatta with nothing but spit easing the way – or not easing it, as is.

He uses it to calm his own conscience; knows, in fact, that it doesn’t do shit when he starts fucking the bulbous head of his dick inside the tender little clench of Zenyatta’s anus – but he just can’t help it.

Not when Zenyatta gurgles around McCree’s cock, his thin, hairless chest flushing as red as his bulging throat as he gets double teamed and spit roasted on dick. Maybe the lack of air is dulling the pain of Genji force-fucking his way into him; curling Zenyatta’s lower body up so he can better mate-press the young man into the dirty ground of the boxring.

Or maybe Zenyatta is just that much of a freak and loves the pain. Loves getting rawed and used unconditionally by the two men he’s been teasing for weeks and months.

His cock – as lovely and slender as the rest of him – is wet at the tip, at least. His insides, as silky and hot as Genji had thought they’d be, clenching and squeezing around him like a well-trained whore. Hugging his cock.

McCree is about as red-faced as Zenyatta, scruffy cheeks puffing out. He looks a bit panicked; like he’s about to come and desperately tries not to.

Genji grins at him wide.

“I can take him if you need to tap out already.”

McCree looks at him with a crazy glint in his eye, and Genji thinks he can hear the grind of his teeth as he forcibly drags himself back from the precipice.

“No fucking way, Shimada.”


	4. Hanzo/Sojiro/Genji

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo/Sojiro/Genji – rough sex; consensual; daddy kink; slight Dom/sub; mention of Sojiro/mother Shimada – Hanzo and Genji accidentally find themselves back in time though still at their current age. Their father puts up no resistance to them taking the reigns.

They suspect that Sojiro must suspect something. He is a frighteningly intelligent man, after all – his cunning not just the exaggeration of their adoring and mildly terrified child minds. He’s paused as they bowed in front of him, dark eyes sharp, the corner of his mouth tucked shrewdly downwards as he studied them…

But he’s never said anything, and they’d never offered to explain. It is too fantastic a story anyway: them, the future selves of the sons that are strolling around the estate, thrown back in time by a freak accident.

He might even believe them, but he would never say so openly, of course. He never asks them for their names. They wonder what he calls them in his mind when they coax him into his own bedroom, walking through it like it belongs to them, and pulling haphazardly at his robes until they hang lewdly off his body; showing off his broad shoulders and trim waist.

His thick, hairy thighs. The meaty, plump swell of his ass presented readily by the old-fashioned fundoshi he is wearing.

They are about to find out, though.

.o.

Mostly, he is quiet at the beginning. Just deep, labored breaths that occasionally peak into small, near distressed sounds that have the both of them pause and eye each other, their worlds tilting as they try to align the sound of the needy, undignified noises with the picture of their regal, stone-like father.

It excites them to feel how very human he is beneath the unswaying, cruel exterior.

He is touch starved. He turns into their hands and mouths eagerly; lets his mouth hang open, tongue lolling even when they don’t put it to use on Genji’s scarred cock or Hanzo’s greedy hole.

(And what an enlightenment that has been: their father, on his hands and knees, yukata askew like a whore, face buried in his son’s ass and peacefully licking at his rim.)

He mewls for them with every pluck of his rosy, plump nipples – inherited by Hanzo – and every pass of a rough fingertip across his plump, lewd hole.

It has not been their first thought when they’ve found themselves in strangely familiar surroundings – but it’s been not far off when they’ve stood in front of their father for the first time in twenty odd years and realized just how magnificent he looks and just how much they used to desire him.

Granted, their boyish fantasies had been different; with them on their backs and their legs spread whorishly – but they find the opposite is even more pleasing.

“Hold him for me,” Genji tells him, voice not as robotic without his visor but still as calm and pleasing. Hanzo slides into position at their father’s head, placid, not caring about being ordered around by his younger brother.

He hooks his hands behind Sojiro’s knees and pulls them up and apart; folding their regal oto-san into a fine little package until he wheezes out a long, distressed whine, his cheeks a dark cherry red as his ass curves up into the air, cheeks spread and exposing the obscene pout of his hole.

“It always looks so lewd,” Genji murmurs as he idly puts himself on his belly, breath fanning across the exposed, sensitive part. “If I didn’t know better I would think you get fucked by your guards every night.”

“Ah,” their father says, and then follows, even more softly: “No…”

Genji pauses, glances up. There’s an old mischief in his eyes as he presses a single kiss square against the pout of his asshole, greying beard tickling undoubtedly.

“No?” he queries, and their father squirms as well as he can. He looks so approachable like this; folded in half, showing his goods off to his sons. The knowledge that he can be embarrassed is fucking with Hanzo’s head. He tunes out as Genji keeps needling their father while he works his way up to his big, ruddy red cock, lying against his belly in a nest of coarse hair that’s just this side of unruly and poses an almost sickening source of fascination for both his sons.

Instead he stares at the shell of Sojiro’s ear; watches how hot and red it becomes. Thinks, disjointedly That’s how I look when I’m aroused; and lets his gaze wander further at the swell of his tits peeking out of the untidy folds of his ruined yukata.

Hanzo wants to touch them. He wants to get his hands on them like so many men did with him: take rough hand fulls and squeeze them together. Slap them. Pinch the nipples. Use his father like a common street slut.

The blood is roaring in his ears, his hands sweating and shaking where they still hold Sojiro’s legs, his feet high in the air. Undignified.

Showing himself off and not putting up an ounce of protest.

He’s never protested any of their advances. Like he’s known forever how this exchange would go. Like he’s been waiting for someone to degrade him and put him in his rightful place.

Speared on a fat cock that can warm his cold interior up nicely.

Like Genji does now: Pressing a last, suckling kiss at the violently red tip of their father’s cock before rearranging himself.

Hanzo can let go when he’s above them, squatting down with his legs bracketing their father’s body, his thighs keeping Sojiro pinned like a bug.

Undignified. Sojiro is so undignified. Whining for their cocks. Letting them put him in whatever positions they damn well please. Degrading him.

Genji raws him, fucks his nearly dry cock into the ridiculous, lewd pout of their father’s ass, and Sojiro does not even pretend he is distressed about the harsh pain from it.

Genji has him in a mating press, fucking down into Sojiro’s ass, curved up and presented, spreading his tender, slick insides out on his cock and frowning at the sensations that are almost too sharp to be pleasurable – and it is then that Sojiro says it, arms scrambling up and trying to grab at Hanzo, fingers curling into his garments and holding on for dear life: “D-Daddy…”

It is spoken quietly, breathy, fucked out of him by Genji’s unrelenting, calm thrusts, like the word has been stuck somewhere and been forced out by the fat cock that is trying so desperately to deep dick him right into his belly.

He sounds shameful, eyes slitted in pleasure, staring at Genji’s face that looks so very much like Sojiro’s own.

And maybe it is their own shame that it does not deter them in the least – does, in fact, spur them into action even more, Hanzo’s cock jerking, wetting against his own underwear as their father’s cheeks get a darker shade of ruddy red, his bulky cock jerking where it lies unattended against his scrunched-up belly.

“Say it again,” Genji rasps, thrusts punishing; fucking deep into their father with loud, obscene slaps that have Sojiro throw his head back, throat thick and flushing as he pants through the pain of getting rawed by the cyborg, veins pulsing visibly.

“Say it!” Genji hisses, his earlier calm demeanor broken by the sudden, visceral need to have their father submit even more; have him supplicate himself before them.

And here, too, Sojiro does not put up any fights. He pants, open-mouthed and canine, tongue lolling, undignified. Dishonorable.

“Daddy.”

.o.

Hanzo has to have him afterwards. They turn him around; arrange their oto-san however they please and delight in how eager he is; arching his back and offering up his hole, bloomed open and brick red as his cheeks. Raw and painful looking but still needy for Genji’s cock to slip in and get it hot and aching for him.

His throat is soft and squeezing down on Hanzo. He only needs to guide him into the general direction before he gets the drift and pounces on it; chokes himself on cock and gags almost dutifully when Hanzo pushes in carefully, fucking against his soft palate and the squishy back of his throat.

He’s clumsy, but he’s still a cockwhore. He wants them to teach him, and he is shockingly open about it.

Hanzo remembers suddenly vague snippets of memory; of seeing their mother glide and their father following like a puppy. Of seeing her grab his hand and digging her nails into the tender skin at his wrist until he relents to whatever negotiations were happening at the time.

Of peeking through the sliding doors of their shared bedroom and seeing their father supplicated before her, dutifully dragging his tongue along the juicy slit of her cunt as she idly plays with a riding crop, ready to put another stripe to the assortment scattered along his back.

He must have been lonely, after her passing. Looking desperately for someone to hurt him in just the right ways. Someone to tell him what to do and how.

Hanzo feels strangely proud at being able to continue the family tradition and train their father to be a perfect cockslut.


End file.
